Non Productive Day
by rinalii
Summary: "Who said I was going anywhere?" Oneshot, Chelsea x Vaughn.


**_EDIT:_**_ This is pretty late. But I just want to say sorry to a couple of reviewers who wanted to see more chapters from this- The point is, I don't have any intention of making this into a multi-chaptered story. Even if I tried, it would probably end up being messy/disjointed, besides... everyone knows how much I fail at updating. x.x_

**_EDIT(2):_**_ Slightly changed it, because it was really embarrassing to look at. But the story is more or less the same... Yeah. On a sidenote, **please** don't ask me any more questions about "what happened afterwards". Or tell me that you don't get it. Whatever happens later on is left to YOUR imagination. That's the whole point. Oh, and FYI, the rating is K+ for a reason, so no, nothing naughty. :v_

**Disclaimer: **Do I own anything? No, not really.

* * *

"Ah... Ahhh... Achoo!" Chelsea sniffed. Then, she rested her chin on her hands and wore a small pout.

Chelsea hardly ever got sick. So it came as quite a surprise when she had collapsed in the middle of her animal barn. It was... odd to break off of her usual morning routine. She had been on bed rest for the whole morning, the clock hadn't even reached ten o'clock yet, and she already felt so bored.

Young children would always get excited whenever they could use illness as an excuse from school. But Chelsea was not a young child, and she certainly didn't understand. How was this exciting? The same two conditions for a long period of time: sickness and boredom_, _as well as having accomplished absolutely nothing.

She just couldn't grow accustomed to the idea.

Chelsea chewed on her lower lip anxiously. It was hard to sit still, knowing that she still had a lot of chores to attend to. She had tried to sit up several times, but of course her body didn't—wouldn't—allow it. As time flew forward, mind and body continued to clash. It left Chelsea to think about a lot of things: how many crops needed watering, how many chickens needed feeding, how many cows needed milking... and that was just three out of the many things on her to-do-list.

_What'll happen to the crops if I just leave them? What if they wilt and die?_

_The chickens are going to get sick if I don't feed them..._

_Ugh, I'm so bored. I want to do something, anything!_

One by one, they continued to cloud up her mind until—

—she snapped, buried her face into the pillow and just couldn't take it anymore.

Chelsea took a deep breath, eventually deciding to calm down. There was no point in getting frustrated. So, she looked at things from a different approach, to really think about it logically. Surely, there had to be a way where she could still do her chores for the day, even in her current condition.

...Then again, what was stopping her? So what if her nose was runny? So what if her chest felt heavy? And so what if her throat felt dry as a result from the unpleasant coughing fits she'd been experiencing? As far as she was concerned, she was still healthy. She could still use her hands, stand and see; pretty much everything she needed to do in order to run her farm.

Besides, she didn't like being treated like an invalid. No, Chelsea _had_ to do this—After all, how could she call herself a farmer, if she allowed herself to be stopped by something as ridiculous as an illness?

"Right, I better get," sneeze, "to work!" Chelsea coughed, with her hands resolutely balled into fists.

As long as she was still alive and conscious, she was determined to finish her chores; no matter what it took—cold or no cold. Chelsea sat up groggily, and carefully lifted the blanket off of her body. She huffed to try and reach for her boots. Eventually, she slowly staggered towards her tool box, in order to take the necessary equipment

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" scolded a familiar male voice.

"Vaughn?" Chelsea asked, lips parted with slight shock.

"Hmph. Don't look so surprised."

The heavy sneeze prompted the silver-haired cowboy to slightly back away.

"W-what are you," sneeze, "doing here?"

"Mirabelle asked me to bring you this." Vaughn replied monotonously, holding out a small bowl of soup.

Chelsea gives him a drippy smile. "Tell Mirabelle I said," cough, "Thanks!"

Vaughn shrugged, then reached for his pockets. "...Here..."

Sneeze. "What's it," sneeze, "for?" Chelsea folded her arms behind her back, and stared at whatever he was handing out to her with an unintelligent look on her face.

Vaughn gave a sigh of impatience. "A tissue. For your cold, obviously."

"I don't need it." Cough. "I'm fi-fuh," sneeze, "fine!"

"You're obviously not. Anyone can see that. Just go back to bed, you idiot," was Vaughn's simple reply.

"It's not up to you," cough, sneeze, cough, cough, sneeze, "to tell me how I—"

The last thing Chelsea saw before crashing to the ground was a blurry image of Vaughn's worried face.

**=oOo=**

Cerulean eyes slowly fluttered open. Everything was white, translucent for a brief moment. Eventually, the colours began to appear less blurry, less dark, clearer. Chelsea was then met with a shade of black, white and gray—hazily starting to form shape into a familiar person.

"Mmhh... Vaughn?"

"Oh, you're up."

"Where am I? What happened?"

"You passed out."

Chelsea's blue eyes widen with alarm. "Oh no, that's not good! I have to go! I have to go and do my chores!"

But before she could go anywhere, Vaughn tightly grabbed her wrist. His indigo eyes giving her an impatient glare. "Dammit, stay put, will ya? Haven't you learned your lesson yet? You're in no condition for that."

"B-but what about my chores! ?"

"It's all taken care of."

"B-but, I..."

"Your animals are with Mirabelle and Julia. They're all okay. That old man and his family are taking care of the farm work for you." Vaughn frowned, and tipped his hat to shield the front his face, "Satisfied?"

"I... I see..." Chelsea sunk down her covers, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden.

There was a moment of awkward silence, besides the sound of Vaughn's shoes tapping on the floor.

"Well... If there's nothing else, I'm going to leave now."

"...Okay..."

"Oh, and also... drink your soup. Before it gets cold."

Vaughn abruptly stood up, about to head towards her front door. Then, a sharp pain began to rise in Chelsea's heart. The thought of him leaving had suddenly made her feel... very lonely.

"Vaughn?" Chelsea asked timidly, clutching onto the sleeves of his shirt before he stepped away any further.

He sighed heavily, still standing in the same position. "What?"

"I... Uh..."

"Come on. Out with it already." Vaughn turned to face her, patience wearing a little thin.

"I mean, if it's no trouble... W-Would you mind staying with me? Just for a _little_ longer?"

Moments passed, and it was painfully quiet. Chelsea didn't take it as a good sign, armed with the thought that he was definitely going to leave_._ Not that she blamed him, he probably had better things to do than to baby-sit a sick person.

"Hmph. You're such a baby," said Vaughn with slight irritation.

Chelsea curled her toes, speaking with a voice that was attempting to sound as calm as possible. "Okay... I understand... You have more important things to worry about, don't you?"

"Who said I was going anywhere?" Vaughn said with a small smile.

"S-So... you mean..."

Vaughn then returned to his usual, stoic self. "Yeah. Just don't make me regret it."

" ...Right." Chelsea happily smiled at him.

Later that night, a 'little longer' had turned out to be a hell of a lot longer than they both initially thought.


End file.
